


A just too painful memory

by bunnychan62



Series: My Reader Verse [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Meeting for the first time, Thranduil mets his wife, a little bit of prehistory, a little bit of sex, elves getting married, fluff with a touch of sadness at the end, nothing to explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9149881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnychan62/pseuds/bunnychan62
Summary: Just a little backstory about Thranduil and his wife.How I thought their live together could have been .Actually lot of fluff with a little smut and a little sadness at the endenjoy





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I wrote after watching the hobbit.  
> It’s about Thranduil because I love him.  
> I’m already sorry about the many mistakes but I’m not a native English speaker and I don’t have someone to read it beforehand.  
> So I’m sorry. I hope you will still enjoy it. Have fun.

Legolas mother, Thranduils beloved wife. 

Legolas is his son, but he is afraid of looking too closely. To look at that face, that smile would mean to remember.  
Because that face, it looks so much like hers, especially these forest green eyes, so deep and bright. And his smile is so gentle, so wonderfully open and charming. Just like hers had been. The graceful way he moves, every step is a picture of art.  
He is afraid to touch him, a lingering touch would be even worse. He used to touch him, in a more gentle way than now, but that was a very long time ago, when he had been mere a little boy and she had still been with them.  
She used to touch him, so lightly, so gently. She was the first person to ever touch him like that. He can still feel her hand on his skin.  
As she left them, him alone and mourning, he shed the first and last tear in his entire live. 

The first time he had met her had been special.  
It had been spring hundreds of years ago, maybe even thousand. Everything came to a new live, the whole green forest flourished brightly once again.  
Thranduil had been out for a stroll through the forest, a little bit of calmness and peace before the new spring festivities.  
He had his bow and arrow, was a trained warrior. And the young and new king. He could go were ever he wanted. Of course did he know that he was watched and followed on every step, but as long as they left him at peace, he didn’t care that much.  
It was in a small and secluded clearing that he had spotted her.  
She wore a light green dress, the wide sleeves pushed up to her elbows to reveal her pale arms and delicate hands.  
At first he had thought her one of the maiden she- elves or even a warrior. How very wrong he had been.  
She sat there, crouched down on the soft moss covered floor one hand stretched out, her gaze directed forward.  
He made two steps towards her and with a gentle move she held up her other hand.  
“Please, try to be quiet. Or you will scare him away.”  
He stopped in his tracks and looked down. She was still looking forward, hadn’t even payed him a glance jet. But then he noticed the little creature approaching her with careful, hesitant tiny steps.  
Grey fur, pointy ears, a tiny bushy tail. A wolf cub. It was still tiny, probably just a few weeks old.  
The little creature made a few more tiny steps and then reached her hand. It stood before her, hesitantly sniffing her fingertips.  
Thranduil watched the scene with a sceptically raised eyebrow.  
“Be careful or it could hurt you.” He said, he still can’t remember why he had even spoken up in that moment.  
He could hear the smile in her voice as she replied quietly: “It’s just a wolf, not a beast.”  
The little pup sniffed a little more and then lunged forward, his tiny but sharp teeth cutting through the skin of her finger and drawing a little bit of blood.  
Thranduil flinched a bit as he heard her sharp intake of breath. Probably the pain he guessed.  
But she just held still and waited and soon after the little creature let go of her finger and begun to lick the tiny droplets of blood from her skin.  
And not a second later the baby wolf pressed his fluffy face into her palm and she scratched him behind the ear.  
He watched the scene for a few more moments, this trustfulness, this tender contact. Not only from the wolf cub but from her. Never had he seen two creatures interact like that.  
But then again, it was commonly known that elves didn’t tend to show their affection through bodily contact and tenderness.  
The moment was shattered as a low growl came from not far away.  
Immediately Thranduil had drawn an arrow and was just about to shoot as a hand laid itself onto his and pressed his arm together with the bow down.  
“Don’t.” She had said, and they had watched how the wolf cub had jumped around and run to its mother, the wolf standing just at the edge of the clearing.  
She had let go of the little wolf and stood up to prevent him from making the cub an orphan.  
She had looked up at him and smiled gently, one hand pushing the long honey golden hair behind a pointy ear, decorated with nondescript jewellery that embraced the outer shell of her ear in silver.  
“Not every creature is dangerous.”  
After that they had walked through the forest. Just walked and talked until it was time for him to go again.  
He could still remember how she had smiled and even laughed at the things he had said and how her hair smelled as the warm spring wind blew a few strands into his face. 

The second time they met was a coincident neither of them had thought to be real at first.  
It was at the feast of new spring, that the lord of the near see lands introduced her to him as his daughter.  
She wore a beautifully white dress with sky blue applications, mixed with golden patterns. Her green eyes a bright contrast to it. Her golden hair braided into four single braids at the front, and then tied back behind her loosely curled hair that spilled over her shoulders and poured over her back like a waterfall.  
As she saw him he had nodded politely and she had smiled.  
He asked her for a dance and didn’t let go of her for the rest of the night.  
At their first dance he had looked accusingly at her, but not angry.  
“You didn’t tell me you were a princess.”  
She had just smiled that gentle smile of hers but this time with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes as her hand touched his again during the spin.  
“Well, you didn’t tell me you were the king.” 

Their first kiss had been just as surprising to him as it had been to her.  
After that night of the new spring feast, she had visited him regularly.  
They would walk around, take strolls through the castle and the wide gardens.  
They would either have rather amusing and revealing conversations. Or they would sit at a stone fountain and he would read some elvish poems to her.  
She just sat there, watching him with that gentle look on her face.  
He couldn’t stand her look anymore, it was just too distracting.  
So he had put the book into his lap and had leaned forward.  
“Is something the matter?” he had asked.  
She had shock her head, the blond hair bouncing on her shoulders.  
“No.” her smile took on that mischievous glint. It always meant trouble for him, but mostly not in a bad way.  
“I just love watching you read. It’s a wonderful sight to behold.”  
She had leaned towards him too, one of his hands reaching out to touch one of the golden curls that fell into his lap.  
“You know what I think a wonderful sight?”  
She shook her head, her eyes fixed on his.  
He had just leaned forward and let it happen.  
The warmth and happiness hat surged through his body at that moment was so fascinating that he didn’t wanted do ever miss it again.  
He had never felt that feeling ever again, after she was gone. 

The day they married had been the first happiest day in his live. At least until then.  
They sleep with each other, not just to produce an heir but because it was wonderful and fulfilling.  
It could be gentle and loving and it gave her everything he could have wished for. But she also liked it when he got a bit rougher. When he pushed her down and held her in place. Demonstrated his power. She loved it when he pulled her long and slender legs over his shoulders and then leaned down to nearly bend her in half. It had been his favourite position too. But mostly it had been her flushed face in the row of passion that he learned to love, to worship and hold dear in the depths of his now nearly frozen heart.  
The second happiest day was after he came back after a very long and tiring journey for some peace agreements.  
All he had wanted to do was take a hot bath, maybe eat something and then cuddle up with his wife in their big bed.  
She was there to greet him, together with the rest of the court.  
The white dress flew around her, but did nothing to hide the swollen belly under her protective hands.  
As Thranduil saw her he had to hold back not to run and cry from joy. Instead he had hurried over to her, taking her hands in his and then pressed a kiss to her forehead, the whole court cheering and congratulating them.  
They loved each other that night. With her on top of him and his hands securely surrounding their unborn child.  
The child was perfect, just like her. To everyone’s joy she even gave him a son. An heir for his kingdom.  
He was gentle hearted and a bundle of pure joy. But he still could be thick-headed like his father and sometimes a little rascal like his mother.  
But they both loved him. She even loved him more than anything. Even more than live.  
As the war had started she wanted do fight with them and even if he wanted do hold her back, he knew that she was a very good warrior and that he couldn’t forbid her that.  
The day she died, the day he watched on as the sword of an orc pierced her breast had been the saddest in his entire live.  
Thranduil had been furious, even going as far as slaying the orc with a single hit before perching down next to her shivering body and cradling her in his arms.  
She had lifted a hand and cupped his face in it. Smiled and told him she loved him and their son, before going limp as life left her.  
As the battle had been over, he had been soaked in Orc blood from head to toe.  
He had grown cold hearted after that. Had spent a long time morning her and nearly forgoten about everything else around him.  
When he had time, if he had time, he would look at the white gems of pure starlight that she had worn at their wedding.  
He would remember her and it would hurt and soothe him down at once.  
It was a reminder. He could easily picture her in that flowing white dress and how she had greeted him with an eager smile, her whole figure bathed in sunlight.  
Of course the gems weren’t the only thing she had left him, but the other one was just too painful to look at.


End file.
